


War Is Never Cheap, Dear

by Nopholom



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Ending, Anal Sex, Gun Violence, M/M, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: “What are you doing?” Billy asked, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, frowning as he watched Goody finish pulling on his coat, Goody didn’t answer, just froze for a moment before continuing to dress himself, “Goody,” Billy said louder this time and Goody’s shoulders went rigid, head hanging low."I'm leaving..."The night Goody leaves, the battle, and a different outcome.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trying this one again now that it's finished properly (sorry if you read it earlier with a slightly more terrible title, there is more here and actual tweaks to other bits).

They all left the table at the same time, they always did but this time it was different, this time it could be for the last time, they might die tomorrow.

Goody nodded his goodbye and Billy followed suit and trailed behind him up the stairs, but unlike every time before, they let the briefest bit of contact be seen, fingers reaching out and lacing together loosely, casually, as they ascended the last few steps of the saloon. Nobody commented. It wouldn’t matter if they did.

Their modesty abated quickly once Goodnight’s door closed behind Billy, who slammed Goody against it and crashed their mouths together, so desperate and needing this that he couldn’t allow time to smoke beforehand. Goody reciprocated eagerly, ripping at Billy’s clothes and then his own, needing skin on skin as soon as possible, the two conceded defeat and broke apart to strip down to their skin before colliding once more. Goody easing them towards the bed and Billy pushed him down onto it before moving to climb on top, Goody stopped him though.

“Billy hold on,” he uttered, a hand on Billy’s chest, “I want this,” he gestured between them, his awkward way of saying he wanted to receive, “I don’t want this to feel different to any other time,” he whispered roughly, he had given to Billy plenty of times, but had openly admitted to preferring the wholeness that feeling Billy inside him gave him.

“Ok…” Billy nodded, shifting to let Goody take the lead by moving further onto the bed, spreading his legs and inviting Billy to get comfortable between them with his best smirk; Billy bit his lip as he looked Goody over, taking every lick of skin in, the freckles, the scars, the bruises from the days training and the nights they shared. He looked to Goody’s face, seeing that smug knowing on his face and unable to keep his own face impassive, smirking at him and reaching to stroke his roughening cheek, a tender gesture reserved for times like this. Goody grabbed his wrist and pulled gently, easing Billy over him so they could kiss, slower than before, emotion coursing through them because as much as they wanted it to be normal, it just _wasn’t_ , it couldn’t be, may never be again.

“Goddamn Billy,” Goody cussed against his mouth, the _“I need you”_ was implied and received, Billy wetting his fingers with spit—they’d run out of oil just before they’d joined this suicide mission—before sliding them down the crease of Goody’s backside and stroking at his hole, feeling him react almost instantly and enjoying the groan Goody unleashed.

The pain was all part of the pleasure for them, so Billy pushed a finger into Goody after a few brief wet strokes, gently fucking him with his finger and dipping his head down to bite at his jaw, Goody raised his hands to Billy’s head, pulling the leather strip from his hair and tossing it off the side of the bed, shaking Billy’s hair loose and letting his fingers fix through it. Billy pulled his finger from Goody and spat on two, pushing them both in and allowing a satisfied smirk as Goody arched and let out a shuddering breath of pleasure, Goody’s legs came around him and squeezed to spur him on, silently begging him for more as he stroked through Billy’s hair. Goody guided their mouths together once more, the kiss was sweet and chaste for a few touches before growing fervent with Billy’s thrusting fingers, messy and desperate and showing everything they couldn’t say to one another when caught up like this.

Billy pushed a third finger in and Goody winced for a moment, breath hitching as he lifted his legs to ease the stretch, pressing their foreheads together and panting out a “yes” that answered a question Billy hadn’t asked, but he was ready, so Billy fucked his fingers into Goody a few more times before withdrawing, spitting on his palm and rubbing his straining cock a couple of times. He lined up and Goody lay back, spread and waiting, watching with a lazy, cocky grin after wetting his own hand and beginning to stroke his prick.

 

Pushing into Goody was as close to a high as Billy could get without actually lighting up, so familiar and tight and just a perfect fit for him inside a man he admired and adored and had once, briefly, feared. He wasted no time staying still with his balls against Goody’s ass, starting to fuck him slowly and then quicker as Goody’s quiet moans gave way to growled swearing. He leant on one arm, holding Goody’s hip with the other hand and using it as leverage to fuck into him, Goody pushing back without fault, cussing against his lips between hasty kisses because _“shit Billy it’s good,”_ and every word made Billy smile slightly with an out of place affection. He lost himself in the familiar, oh so natural motion of fucking Goody, eyes half lidded and downcast, watching Goody’s hand pump his cock in time with his thrusts, slowing when he did, quickening when he did, Goody squeezing and stroking and thumbing his own slit. It spurred him on, his hips now slamming into Goody, hoarse moans falling from his lips, a rough hand cupped his cheek, tilting his head to meet Goody’s watery gaze, his own vision blurring for a moment before Goody’s thumb traced his eyelashes.

He turned and bit Goody’s hand lightly, earning a breathy chuckle and fucking it into a broken sob of pleasure, slowing down after a moment and just rocking his hips into Goody, letting their pace ease to something that just _had_ to be _right_ cause _god_ how could it not be? Their rutting, once a rhythmic shifting of sweat shiny bodies, grew into something more, their hands and mouths exploring one another, mapping out marks and scars, committing them to memory, slow and trembling as deep emotion infested their base actions.

He kissed Goody’s palm and rubbed his cheek into his hand, loving the feel of rough fingers against his skin, and the way Goody was tracing his features like words on a page, hand shaking a little with their bodily motions.

“God Goody, fuck,” he cussed, spilling over the edge as he did, continuing to steadily fuck into Goody and hunching over him, touching their noses together before coaxing another kiss from him, Goody’s hand slipped into Billy’s hair once more, other hand rapidly pumping his cock, no longer matching pace, too frantic and desperate for release now Billy had filled him. He tightened his grip on Billy’s hair as he finally came, coating his own stomach in his seed, Billy taking that as his cue that it was safe to give into the building tenderness of his half hard cock and pull out. He shifted to Goody’s side and Goody seemed to melt on the bed, stretching out and popping joints, relaxing like he didn’t have Billy’s seed puddling beneath him on the bed. “You’re a mess,” Billy pointed out, half tempted to reach out and touch the streaks across Goody’s stomach, losing the opportunity when Goody grabbed a handkerchief from the side table and gave himself a rudimentary wipe down.

“Better?” Goody asked, rolling onto his side to face Billy, he was smiling, but there was something in his eyes that Billy couldn’t identify, a mixture of that haunted look he got when the dreams came back, and something else.

“Mhm,” Billy answered, rolling onto his back when Goody slipped closer, he drifted off with Goody curled up against his side, a comforting presence that made what was to come a little easier on his mind.

 

He didn’t sleep long though, feeling a chill on his skin and squinting in the dark to find Goody no longer at his side, instead he was at the wash basin cleaning himself up; Billy rolled onto his side and watched, appreciating the view of Goody buck naked and running a damp cloth between his sticky cheeks. He stayed quiet, sure Goody would return to bed soon enough, and he’d ruin all that hard work just because he could, a thought which made him smirk. Goody dried off quickly after, but instead of coming to bed he tiptoed around the room collecting up his clothes, pulling them on as he went, alarm bells starting to ring in Billy’s head.

“What are you doing?” Billy asked, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, frowning as he watched Goody finish pulling on his coat, Goody didn’t answer, just froze for a moment before continuing to dress himself, “Goody,” Billy said louder this time and Goody’s shoulders went rigid, head hanging low.

“I’m leaving…” he said as he pulled on his boots, Billy only just heard him, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut, and Goody was on his way out the door,

“What?” he gasped, getting up and pulling on his own clothes hastily, “Goody wait,” he called, following Goody without shoes, racing down the hallway after him, “Goody!” he shouted and Goody stopped this time.

“I can’t… I can’t do this…” Goody whispered as he faced Billy, “I don’t wanna die,” he admitted, barely audible even as Billy closed the gap between them, “I don’t wanna see _you_ die,”

“Goody…”

“Come with me, let’s get the hell outta here,” Goody turned from ashamed to desperate, grabbing Billy’s hands and pleading with him, “we can go back to how we were,” that haunted look was in his eyes again, along with that _something_ that Billy was quickly realising was a blind, frantic terror,

“And let our friends die?”

“And _live_ ,” Goody insisted, “Shit Billy, I know this is… I know I’m a goddamn coward, but we can outrun this if we go now,” he was acting like a coward, but Billy knew he wasn’t one, he’d been through so much and he was scared of going through it all again, Billy couldn't fault him for that, he was scared too, but he needed to do this, _they_ needed to do this.

"You're not a coward," he rasped, curling his hands into the lapels of Goody's jacket and pressing their foreheads together, feeling the way Goody just stood there too scared to move, "You’re not,” he said again, weaker this time as the defeat snuck in unwillingly, he didn’t know what to say to keep him here,

“I’m sorry…” Goody whispered, cupping Billy’s face in his hands and kissing him, hard. “I…” Goody couldn’t get the words out, but Billy felt it too, couldn’t say it outright either, never had.

“I know… Me too…” he uttered, pressing one last kiss to Goody’s lips before physically dragging himself away from Goody's familiar warmth and turning his back on him, unable to watch him walk away from this, waiting for the door to shut before heading downstairs to the bar and pulling a bottle close. He drank heavily, nobody stopped him.

 

He hadn’t slept, continuing to drink as he sat there with Goody’s flask in hand, staring at the fleur du lis so solemnly that he didn’t notice the others passing him by until Chisholm’s hand landed on his shoulder and brought him back to the present.

“It’s time,” Sam whispered, Billy nodding and pocketing the flask, heading upstairs to dress himself properly and equip himself for the fight, emerging from the saloon and squinting at the sky briefly. He saddled up his horse soon after and took to pacing the perimeter, a small glimmer of hope cutting the unrest in his gut, that he might see Goody returning to fight, that he’d come to his senses and face his demons head on, but as the bell began to toll his hopes flickered out like a flame, leaving him cold to the core and dreading what might happen next.

As the line formed in the distance he let his horse tread away from the future brawl and headed to his position in the trenches, checking his gun once, twice, silencing a man playing a nervous tune on a harmonica, and waiting.

A war cry screamed in the distance and he waited, listening as the hammering of hooves approached, a thunder that he knew deep down would have set Goody on edge had he been down here with him, but he didn’t let it distract him, he was going to walk out of this and find Goody and kick his goddamn ass six ways to Sunday for leaving like this, his sympathy for Goody’s trauma would have to be put aside for a while.

“Masks up,” he grunted, pulling his own over his face and waiting, the quiet shushing of masks being pulled up was almost calming under the hoof-made thunder, an assurance that he wasn’t alone here, that everyone was willing to put in the same thing as him, their lives. Everyone was shaking as they moved to his side of the trench, backs against the wood, readying themselves as best they could as they waited what felt like an eternity for the tracker further on to prove his abilities and press the plunge in time and indicate when Billy should push his.

The explosion sounded and Billy slammed his hand down, further explosions erupting around them, shaking the ground and drowning out the screams of horses and men, he told his men to hold as the chaos ensued, waiting for the dust to settle some before they unleashed their guns on the remaining men.

“Now!” he shouted, bursting from the trenches and laying down a line of fire, unsurprised to see dozens of Bogue’s soldiers trying to rein in their horses and turn tail, unflinching when a young lad a few men down from him grunted and fell to the ground.

As his rifle shed its load he tossed it aside and swung out of the trench, firing his pistols at the nearest men before holstering those and retrieving his knives, cutting through the fray and rolling past a horse, stabbing, slicing, cutting at soldiers, shooting other men with their comrade’s guns before running deeper into the battle. The enemy numbers were dwindling quickly as men fled their own deaths, the more explosions that erupted around the town, the more men grew sense and decided their lives were worth more to them than lining Bogue’s pockets.

He was running into the town with his men when some horses started to gain on them, separating from the group to draw their fire and leaping into the air, reflexes quick as he spun and unloaded a revolver into their pursuer, landing on his ass in the dirt but knowing the remaining horsemen were about to be in a world more pain than he was when the livery doors opened.

 

“Into the church!” someone was shouting and Billy followed their guidance this time, emerging from cover and darting for the building, bullets whizzing overhead, ducking inside just as Faraday was shot and Vasquez emerged to swear up a storm and shoot the man who’d done it. He shook an odd smile off his face and looked to Faraday, seeing he was OK,

“So far so good,” a joker even now, “I’m going,” he shouted after catching his breath,

“Keep shooting, they’re trapped,” Billy called out as Faraday burst from the church and took out the panicking horsemen that had been carried this far by bloodlust, he followed Faraday out with a lever action and shot with him. A man had broken through somehow and was lining up a shot at Billy in his blind spot, but as Billy turned the man fell limp to the ground, Vasquez and Faraday’s backs to him as they pressed on.

There was a sudden rapid succession of bullets, an almost clockwork rhythm to them as they tore through upper floors of the buildings, Billy had never seen this before, but he knew what it was from Goody’s nightmares.  
“Gatling gun!” he shouted at the others, Vasquez and Faraday quickly passing on the news, shouting it as they all dove for cover as best they could, “Inside! Inside!” He shouted, beckoning as many to follow as he could, horrified at the amount of their own falling to the ground in the hail of bullets. He ran with the others and threw men to the ground as they got inside, yelling for them to stay down because this battle was rapidly becoming a war zone. He heard the clang of a bullet on the bell and dread sank to his core, an eerie silence following as the Gatling gun stopped, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long,

 _“The damned things shoot nigh on a hundred bullets faster than you can think, but they have a bit of reload time, that perfect little gap in the fire to pick them off_ ,” Goody’s voice melted into the silence but Billy knew what he needed to do.

“They’re reloading! Stay down!” he ordered as he himself rose to his feet,

“The children!” Faraday barked, worry etched into his features as he ran out the door, Vasquez gave Billy a nod to say he had this, giving both Billy and Faraday cover as Billy leapt for the hanging rope and pulled himself up to the stairs of the steeple, someone tossing him a rifle before he ascended to the top.

He quickly forced the injured shooter back down into the church and took his place, lining up as best he could and trying to scope out the Gatling gun, it was a long way off, he thought that maybe if Goody were here he’d make the shot, but he wasn’t, so Billy had to.

He heard Horne shouting, though he didn’t seem threatened so he kept his eye on the gun, could see figures shifting in the distance, fussing over the machine and presumably loading it up for another devastating attack,

“Shit,” he cursed, hearing Jack once more shouting about evil and looking for him, spying a man with a bow slowly descending upon someone, Billy fired a shot. He missed, hands shaking as he reloaded and cursed himself, but his shot had done _something_ , offered enough distraction for Red to drop down from his rooftop with catlike grace and challenge the man, hoping to god it was enough because he had a bigger shot to take.

 

He tried to focus on the gunners, shaking his head and blinking away sweat, _it was sweat, just sweat, Goody was gone, Billy had to survive this without him_ , _survive this and he could find him,_ he wiped his face and lined up again, exhaling slowly as he pulled the trigger and prayed the bullet found a home. It wasn’t the man he was aiming for, but one of the Gatling operators fell off the wagon in a heap, so he chalked it as the wind being in his favour and took aim again. This time the one he aimed for went down, chaos erupting around the wagon as they tried to fend off ghosts, trying to reload the gun and defend themselves at the same time, a few more shots and a few more bodies, Billy was in disbelief at his shooting and figured he had done something right in a former life, but as more men died on the guns, Bogue sent others to operate it, sending another man elsewhere,

“They keep manning the gun!” he shouted down, “I can’t make these shots!” he had made a few, given the bodies, but he didn’t want to rest their lives on a few lucky shots,

“We need to take it out!” Faraday shouted, “I’m going for the gun!” he emerged from somewhere below him and leapt onto a horse, galloping out towards the gun with a small trail of men chasing him down. Billy trained his rifle on them and shot one, then another, reloading hastily and standing for better vantage, getting a shot off and hearing a closer rifle shot before something slammed into his chest and he fell back, shattering the burnt railing and rolling down the roof, barely clinging on to the edging, though it broke as soon as his weight hit it fully and he landed behind a cheval de frise. His vision was black for a long while and he was only just aware that he was still alive when an explosion shook the earth from some distance, his eyes came into focus and he noted idly that the sky seemed beautiful right now in spite of everything.

He could smell fire and heard hooves, then footsteps, slowly approaching, staying stock still not out of choice, but because his limbs just flat out refused to move right now, growing sore just on the principle of it. He heard soft singing, _Sam_ , the readying of guns, more footsteps and a door being kicked, then gunshots, the only gunshots he’d heard since he fell really, and he began to grow scared that maybe they’d _lost_ , in spite of everything. A window shattered and he heard a voice,

“Chisholm?” it wasn’t one of their boys, must’ve been Bogue, “Do I know that name?”

“You should know it from your obituary,” Sam was alive, thank god, but Billy’s attention was fading, the words dull and muddy in his ears, and _Shit_ his chest _hurt_ , was he dying?

“You know, smart move using a sharpshooter,” a sharpshooter? Did he mean Billy? “Got the drop on my men from behind, but he’s dead now, man too focussed on what’s in front of him to see what’s behind,” Billy’s blood ran cold, _Goody_ , he couldn’t breathe, Goody came back, _Goody_ shot those men, Goody… Goody was _dead_.

“ _No_ ,” he let out weakly, the shortness of breath making him dizzy, chest aching so badly with his rapid breathing that he couldn’t remain awake, so he let himself die _._

 

He was awoken by a touch of rough fingers under his jaw and uttered Goody’s name before his eyes peeled open, barely focussing on the hulking figure above him but seeing enough to know it wasn’t Goody.

“Ms Frankel! Ms Cullen! Over here!” Jack Horne bellowed, losing his wobbly tone for just an instant as he scooped Billy into his arms and lifted him from the ground, something slipping from Billy’s pocket and clattering in the dirt. “I got you son,” Jack assured, Billy’s head lolled to the side, peering lazily and dazedly at the metal glinting on the ground, squinting as sunlight shone off the fleur du lis at an awkward angle.

“wait,” he whispered, letting an arm slip from his stomach in a weak attempt to reach for the item, Leni and Emma had rushed over, Emma spotting what he was looking at and snatching it up before following after Jack. Knowing it was safe with her, he turned his head to Jack and rested it on the man’s bloody shoulder, closing his eyes as he was carried inside and laid out on a blanket on the ground, ready for inspection.

Leni fussed over him, opening his shirt and revealing a huge amount of deep bruising over his chest, darker where his heart lay hidden, but no blood there, there was blood on his hands though, where he’d scraped his skin trying not to fall, and his head felt like it was full of oil soaked wool, ready to burst into flame at the briefest spark.

“I think he’ll be okay, he needs rest,” Leni insisted after cleaning up his hands with a damp cloth, washing it off and touching it to Billy’s face gingerly, he jerked away and made himself feel sick, “You sir need to rest too,” she said sterner, poking at Jack who looked sheepish,

“Sorry ma’am,” he grumbled as she turned to him and checked over his own wounds.

“You were awful lucky,” Emma noted as she sat down beside Billy on the floor, shaking the flask, a splash of whiskey erupted from the hole, but it was the rattle of a lead on metal that she was referring to.

“I fell off a roof…” he grumbled, not even trying to sit up, he was starting to suspect that his long due hangover had taken losing consciousness as a sign it was time to come home, he might’ve preferred death at that point.

“But you’re alive,” Emma noted, “and Bogue is dead,” she said with a satisfied little smirk, “We won,” she added, Billy nodded at that and regretted it. Bogue was dead, he’d sauntered into the town exactly as Chisholm had predicted he would,

“Chisholm? Sam?” he let out, he hadn’t seen him, only Jack, only Emma, there had been an explosion, what about Faraday? He tried to sit up this time but Emma pushed him down,

“He’s fine, we… suffered losses, but Mr Chisholm, the others, they’re alive,” they were alive, how had they even survived? “Injured, but fine,” she smiled, looking at the flask in her hands and growing sad, biting her lip and averting her gaze from Billy, “Billy…” she said quietly, “Bogue said something… I… maybe Mr Chisholm should…” she looked up but Billy didn’t need Chisholm to tell him.

 _“Smart move using the sharpshooter… but he’s dead now,”_ caught unawares and shot, Billy’s eyes widened and he felt his lungs burning with a need for oxygen far quicker than he could provide by gasping for air.

“Billy?” Emma panicked a little there, just about losing her composure, clearly exhausted after the fight, “Leni!” she called out,

“No… no no…” Billy gasped, this time pushing himself to sit up and hugging his ribs as they protested angrily within him, “No… no…” he let out weakly, voice cracking and pitching far higher than he’d ever heard himself before.

“Billy!” it was Chisholm, or was it Vasquez? He couldn’t tell, his blood was pounding in his ears and somehow he made it to his feet, trembling and disoriented as he looked around, spotting two men approaching but barely seeing them as he attempted to fight them off. They seemed to shrink away as they realised he wasn’t heading for the door, instead staggering to the bar as a haunting mantra ran through his head over and over again, a mantra he wanted to drink to silence.

_He's dead. Goody’s dead._

 

Evening was starting to fall, those who were injured were cared for, and their fallen kin was separated from those who had died fighting against them, the bodies of their enemies burned in the battlefield whilst their own were prepared to be buried in the coming days.

Vasquez, Jack Horne, and Chisholm had returned to the saloon, stood up enough furniture for people to hunker down on as they both celebrated and mourned, Red Harvest had lingered outside for the longest time before joining them at a large table, accepting drink and food offered and falling silent with the rest, occasionally offering a sombre smile to people who passed and thanked them for everything they’d done. Joshua Faraday had lobbed a stick of dynamite at the Gatling gun and been caught in the blast, not killed, but knocked back hard enough to warrant some serious down time, coupled with a bullet to the gut, he was left upstairs in a different kind of quiet to recover.

Billy hadn’t left the saloon since he’d been brought in, seating himself in a corner on his own, two whiskey bottles keeping him company, one empty, one getting there, his head bowed as he ran his fingers over a now useless flask, sullen and unmoving except to bring a glass to his lips. Chisholm had insisted the others give him some time before the silence had fallen over them, none of them knowing just how to brace the topic of Goodnight’s death to one another, let alone how to try and reach out to Billy.

"I'm going to find him," Jack broke the silence with his quivering voice, glancing over at Billy,

"Jack you're injured," Leni gasped, touching his arm far below where an arrow had hit him that morning,

"I have to," Jack insisted to her and those around them, "God gave Goodnight the courage he needed to fight, its only right he be laid to rest proper," he didn't take his eyes off of Billy, "Besides, a man has a right to say goodbye to the one his heart holds dearest," he said this quieter and with watery eyes, voicing what everyone at their small table already knew and accepted, that Billy hadn't just lost a friend, he'd lost a partner and a lover, a man who both kept him going and relied on him, a part of himself, and Jack could empathise with that just like Chisholm could.

He stood up then, wincing as pain shot through his arm and leg where the arrows had struck, Red was up like a shot then too, "I'll go with you," he said, not needing an answer as he followed Jack across the saloon to Billy,

"We'll find him son, God willing, we'll bring him home," Jack assured Billy, but Billy didn't even look up from his drink, staring down at the near empty glass, Red eased past Jack and picked up the half full bottle on the table, earning a warning shift of a hand from Billy that stopped when the bottle tipped and Red filled his glass for him, the two leaving the saloon together shortly after, Jack limping along and Red standing close to offer a shoulder if he needed it.

 

Billy didn't move from that corner, not even looking up when Faraday finally limped down the stairs in the wee hours of the morning, or when the group migrated to his table to give the offer of inclusion. Vasquez and Faraday argued loudly over the game of cards they'd started playing with Chisholm and Ms's Cullen and Frankel,

"I do hope they're gonna be alright, we don't know how many men fled that fight," Leni worried her hands as she spoke, she had gradually eased herself into their circle of trust with the care she had given those injured in the battle after making sure the kids were okay, and they knew she had a soft spot for Horne,

"I wouldn't worry, without an army behind them, I don't think anyone will wanna fight a bear and an Indian," Faraday piped up, completely blanking Vasquez' accusations of him cheating, though Vasquez stopped to laugh along with him,

"Ms Cullen," Chisholm said as they stopped laughing and started to bicker again, "would you kindly deal for us?" He asked, Emma rolling her eyes before prying the deck from Faraday's hand while he was distracted, earning her a completely aghast look from him.

"Must've hit my head too hard in the blast," he uttered to Billy, who still wasn't wholly there,

"Or you're just slow, güerito," Vasquez jabbed and stood when Faraday did,

"You say that again muchacho," Faraday jabbed a finger at him with one hand, the other hovering over his currently empty gun belt, though the motion was clearly uncomfortable for him.

"Gentlemen, let the lady deal," Chisholm sighed, the boys slowly sitting down, grinning at one another and Faraday jostling Billy with an elbow, getting no response from him.

There had been casualties in the fight and that had cut them deep, but seeing one of their friends survive the battle only to lose himself to drink seemed worse somehow, in losing Goodnight of their septet, they had lost Billy too. He seemed almost hollow, a shadow of his dry witted self, the only signs of life were when he poured another drink, and it was almost impressive that he was present enough to do _that_ much rather than drink straight from the bottle. Of course, Billy was more than just what Goodnight made him, but he had lost someone he rarely stopped rubbing shoulders with, and even Faraday had to concede that that probably felt like the world had been pulled out from under your feet.

 

They stayed together until the sun started to rise and Leni ushered Faraday to have his wounds looked at, Vasquez following and teasing as Faraday complained, Emma went to help as well, leaving Chisholm and Billy sat at the table together, silent and sullen.

"Billy?" Sam called softly as the saloon fell empty, but Billy didn't respond even though he'd long since stopped drinking, "Son you need to talk about this," he pressed,

"Nothing to talk about..." Billy grumbled, voice rough from the whiskey and disuse,

"Once we bring Goody back and help the townsfolk lay their kin to rest, the boys and I were planning on moving on, together," he said slowly, unsure if he'd need to ask or if Billy would understand on his own,

"Where Goody goes, I go," he slurred, "I won't leave him..." He whispered, more to himself than to Sam, “not again…”

"Is that what you want? To stay here?" He asked softly, Sam knew Billy was strong, that he’d be able to recover from this, and when he did the townsfolk could use a man like him.

"I'm staying with Goody," Billy reiterated, and looked down at the flask, whether staying was what he wanted or not, it sounded like it was what he had to do, and Sam could respect that.

“Now see that would require _me_ to be staying _,_ ” the voice was coarse and Billy froze, disbelieving, rubbing his head to wonder if it was from hitting the ground, but Sam was on his feet and that was enough to convince him he hadn’t been the only one to hear. He slowly dragged his eyes up from the flask, begging his head to not lie to him as he saw Jack and Red in the doorway, a slender figure supported between them, blood dried on the side of his head and crusting the sleeve of his jacket. “Though I suppose I may have to for a few days…” Goody smirked, lifting his bloody hand shakily to rub at his head, Billy staggered to his feet before hitting the wall and dropping drunkenly past his seat and onto the floor, too in shock and inebriated to close the gap between them, but Red Harvest took the brunt of Goody’s weight and escorted him slowly over, there was blood dried down Goody’s left leg and he barely put any weight on it as Jack slipped from under his arm and headed off to find someone to help patch him up. Red lowered Goody to the ground and Goody gave him a nod, letting the clearly exhausted man retire to his room upstairs, Sam following after hesitating for a moment, leaving the pair of them to lean against the wall, sides touching. Billy leant his head on Goody’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, he could smell Goody under the blood and gunpowder, an earthy scent with hints of whiskey and dry sweat, he basked in the almost sweet odour and exhaled loudly, neither of them saying a word until after Goody’s injuries were cleaned up; his wound from the first bout and a bullet hole to the leg were bandaged with relative professionalism, and a cloth strip was tied loosely around his head, cocking his hair awkwardly.

“I knew you’d come back…” Billy said with a tired smirk, Goody cocking an eyebrow at him as he smiled back,

“Oh you did, did you? How’d you know that?” he asked, sounding as groggy as Billy _felt_ ,

“You forgot this,” they laughed as Billy offered the flask up and Goody took it, about to twist the cap when he heard the rattle, his own grin faltering as he realised what it was,

“I saw you fall…” Goody seemed to realise, looking somewhere far off as he weighed the flask in his hand, it was almost as if he’d just remembered it had happened, “that’s when the kid got the drop on me…”

“Bogue said you were dead,” Billy whispered, turning his head to press a light kiss to Goody’s shoulder, a simple gesture that meant the world,

“I thought I _was_ for a while there…” Goody uttered, his own head turned to kiss the top of Billy’s hair, which was loose and spilling across his face. His hand came up and eased the hair off of Billy’s face, Billy looking up at him through his lashes, “Billy I…” Billy was about to interrupt with his usual response but Goody let out an exhale with a smile and said “ _God_ I love you,” he was shocked by the quiet confession even though he’d known it for a long time, but his throat was too dry to talk all of a sudden, so he carefully eased his hand around Goody’s neck and drew him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, this was not initially going to have a happy ending but I got hit with a major low and just couldn't hold myself to it.


End file.
